


as good a place to fall as any

by terra incognita (epeolotry)



Category: Veep
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeolotry/pseuds/terra%20incognita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His name from her lips always sounds the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as good a place to fall as any

The feeling of her nails raking across his skin is something he never wants to forget. More than once she has drawn blood. The thought of it had never bothered him - rather, the realization drew out a _special_ kind of Dan Egan trademarked serial killer smile. Usually delivered by glancing up at her through his eyelashes before pressing his bared teeth to her throat.

Betwixt their cyclical phases of officially and unofficially fucking, there are dry spells, where the only thing that lies between them is tension and fury. And she, the VP’s Chief of Staff and a harpy by nature, denies him a chance at reconciliation or release between her legs. ( _so really, what’s the point of making up at all?_ )

He makes do, though.  

 

Everybody jokes about how he gets off on pissing off Amy. Imagine what they’d say if they knew it were true. 

 

He can’t help it.  

The nail-shaped indentations left in his palm from her wrathful outbursts _feel_ the same as the scratches she’s left on his bare chest. And the dangerous flash of her eyes before emitting a cacophony of expletives in his general direction is so preciously close to the look she gives him when he teases her with his bites and kisses at her hips, her collarbone.

So close that it’s as good as. That’s his motto, his mantra, when she grits her teeth and whispers his name under her breath like a curse. His name from her lips always sounds the same. 

 

A curse, a prayer, a moan.

 

If only she knew the power she held. The collateral was enough to ruin him.

Somehow that doesn't frighten him either.

They always went toe to toe, sharp wit versus sharper wit, but with just _one_ measured stroke of his wrist, one whisper into the shell of his ear, he would be on his knees. On his knees, hands trembling, head lolling forward for her to lift it up in her palms. To do with it what she will: kiss him or kill him.  

He lives for the fight, for the thrill, for the meteoric rise he knows he can produce for himself. But he has always known the fall to her feet would be twice as easy and just as sweet. 

 

For her to utterly destroy him would be his privilege and his alone.

 


End file.
